I'm in no rush to rise. Breakfast is until ten. Not much point in getting up before 9. or 9:15. Teeth brushed, kit on and I'm ready to go. Takes 10 minutes, tops.
Despite there being plenty of noise coming from the hotel bar yesterday, I wasn't even vaguely tempted. Just too exhausted. Surprisingly sensible for me.
I don't recognise anyone in the breakfast room. Not that I had expected to. Everyone else arrives today. There are omelettes, scrambled eggs and some chopped up sausage things. That'll do. I make sure to eat a decent amount of fruit, too. I'll be needing all the vitamins I can get.
Logistics dictated that I arrive a day before things kick off. It's no bad thing. I have most of the day to laze about. What could I possibly do? Oh, there is that beach there. And according to Google Maps there are a couple of bars, too.
It's only 50 metres from the hotel. Very pleasant it is, too. Sunny, but not too hot. Plus a bit of a breeze. After walking up and down it for a bit, I'm getting this funny feeling in my throat. I know what it is, I'm thirsty. What could I drink to sate it? Maybe a beer would work.
I sit in the shade outside a pub and gaze towards he sea. I ask the waiter for a beer. "Which one?" he reels off a few names I don't recognise, other than Skol and I don't fancy that. Original? That sounds good. I'll have one of them.
It comes, as is usual here, in a cooler jacket. The thing is all sealed up, preventing me from having a look at the label. Drinkable enough when chilled and consumed on a lovely beach.
As midday approaches, it gets busier at the pub. Many join me in a beer or two. You know what? Why don't I treat myself to a cachaca. Not had one since Andrew glugged down most of the ones I brought back from my last Brazil trip.
This is an excellent way of working off yesterday's stress. A couple of beers and cachacas in and I'm relaxed enough for a quick nap. I nip back to my room.
I wander back to the beach. Feeling a bit peckish, I grab a seat inside. The same beach-side bar. I order a beer and peruse the menu. This is taking me back. It's only in Portuguese. It's like when I first travelled to Germany, before I'd learnt the language. Often I had little idea what I was ordering.
I'm pretty sure that I order some sort of fish. With rice and some other stuff. I'm sure it will be fine.
The entertainment is around a corner and I can't see the musicians from where I sit. I did spot them on the way in. A singer with an acoustic guitar, accompanied by an electric bassist. Playing some sort of samba. It fits very well with the mood.
Mostly right, is how I'd judge my food guesses. Indeed there's fish and rice. Plus salad, chips and a mug of black beans Bit heavy on the carbs, maybe.
People have started singing along and dancing. It's two in the afternoon. And all rather fun. Some of the dancers must be at least as old as me. You'll not get me up there. It would be way too embarrassing.
I don't stay too long, despite grooving on down to the music. There's supposed to be a judges' orientation at four.
After loitering in my room a while I wander downstairs. Not a sign of any fucker. I wait another 40 minutes in my room. Still not a sign of anyone in the public areas. Maybe they're in the garden.
Can't see anyone here, either. Oh look - there's Gordon (Strong) on the beach. With what I assume are some other judges. And they have beer.
After the sun has gone, we trail inside to eat. And drink more beer. My evening is made when I discover there's a Black Princess Bock. That's much more to my taste. More than acceptable. Especially if I'm not paying.
It's nice to have a chance to chat with Gordon. He asks if I'll take a look at the new BJCP style guidelines. Sometime in the next few days. Sure.
Not leaving it too late, mind. The bus to the judging location leaves at 8:20 sharp. At least that's what the organisers claim. I'll need to be up just after 7, if I want time for breakfast. Which I do. It'll be a long day.
A little Bowmore gets the dreams rolling in more quickly.
Bar do Lua
R. Clorinda Ventimiglia,
180 - Cachoeira do Bom Jesus,
Florianópolis - SC,
The organisers of the Brasil Beer Cup paid for my accommodation and food during the period of judging (four nights and three days) Beer, too, which was provided by one of the sponsors. I had to pay for my own cocktails. And all other expenses, such as flights and extra hotel nights.